A Poem for Monday Morning (looking a little differently at God's love)

My Inheritance

You were there when I found you—

that dark, wet place in the earth.

Your skin purpling around one eye,

The blackened blood connecting

Paled lips with ringed nostril.

You were grabbing at your heart,

Bent over in pain like

palms in a hurricane.

There were murderous cuts on your wrists,

scaling your arms. Your neck

had been marked by a choking hand,

But your chest still moved so slightly.

I watched as you took in short breaths of air

Clotted by your own life flow.

Naked, you had been raped

by this world I placed you in.

I watched you try in vain

to slice apart the ribbons attached to your heart,

            But your life belongs to Me.

The earth must have been so cold

on your back, the wind blowing

goosebumps onto your exposed breasts.

Blood under your chipped nails.

My beautiful bride,

I scooped you up from the stain

of your own life and staggered

a moment under your burdened weight.

With a soft cloth and warm water,

I washed what I could

from your skin and kissed gently

pried open wounds

I couldn’t erase.

You were there when I found you.

But now you are here in My arms,

waking up to My warmth

which imbues you with color again.

I am astounded when you look up

into My eyes.

My bride, My breathtaking bride.

My soul proclaims colors and light

And the world is somehow transformed

Because your arms have wrapped themselves around

Me. In this moment, I am made complete.

I sacrificed my own son for you, and,

Stunning bride, my radiant bride,

You are worthy.

Be What You Should Be

Sometimes I do crazy things. Usually they don't fall into the typical reckless college student category, but I do crazy things nonetheless.

My dad used to tell me that I should ask God the hard questions. He said to do it boldly because God can handle my questions and because I'm likely not the first person asking them. Lately, I've been asking God a lot of questions, pushing at the sealed-up edges of what I "know," of what I've always just "known." The edges have been coming unsealed, and instead of finding answers, I've been finding more questions. One of my favorite authors, Donald Miller, tweeted the other day, "If you want answers, do math. If you want love or beauty or Jesus, dive into mystery." I don't want to do math, and so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by the lack of answers. This is certainly not the first time I've looked to God in my forest of question marks and not discovered the finality of a period.

A couple weeks ago, I decided to petition God. This is where the story of crazy doings begins.

I stumbled over a couple verses in Lamentations I'd never noticed before:

So it is good to wait quietly for salvation from the LORD. And it is good for people to submit at an early age to the yoke of his discipline: Let them sit alone in silence beneath the LORD’s demands. Let them lie face down in the dust, for there may be hope at last. (Lamentations 3:26-29 NLT)

Maybe I took it a little too literally, but I decided to make my requests known to God and then to be silent before Him for an entire day. I waited quietly for the Lord's salvation. I fell into a state of mourning, which was appropriate since I was living out Lamentations. And for an entire day, I protested God for His answers and His salvation.

Did it work? Did I get the answers I sought? Yes and no...I laid down with my face in the dust of the earth both literally and metaphorically. And I waited for hope to begin at last. Indeed, it feels like hope is beginning again for the first time in months. The key word there is "beginning." It began with a day of mourning followed by a bookended day of redemption. My roommate and I woke up for a sunrise run to the Battery and Waterfront Park. We were so early we met only darkness and had to wait patiently on the pier overlooking the water for awhile before the morning began to roll back night's cover, the spangled stars disappearing gradually. From that moment until evening fell and found me at a Gungor concert, I, like the day, became so full of life.

The Gungor concert was too perfect for words. I love that Gungor boldly gives God a voice and that they sing so completely for Him. It was an experience, one that sent me out feeling more saved than when I arrived. And amidst all the familiar riffs, banjo patterns, and vocals that give lift to my heart, Michael Gungor stood on stage alone and sang a song I'd never heard before, "Song For My Family." As he sang, he proceeded to give voice to the storm of chaos in my heart. The song didn't give me answers, but it gave me hope.

This is a song for my family

Outside the walls of Sunday morning 

From some within.

This is a song to confess our sins,

Lay it all out, and try to begin again.

To hope again.

Please forgive our ignorance

In looking down on you

Please forgive our selfishness

For hiding in our pews while the world bleeds

While the world needs us to be what we should be 

This is a song for my family who 

Just can’t believe in the Jesus that you’ve seen 

On Sunday morning.

This is a song for the cynical saints.

The burned out and hopeless.

The ones that we’ve cast away.

I feel your pain.

Please forgive the wastefulness of all that we could be

But don’t forget, there’s more than this

Her beauty still exists

His bride is still alive

This is a song for my family 

Inside the walls of Sunday morning.

Be what you should be.